


Who you are, who you were, who you will be

by uranimegf



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Language, F/F, Female Hange Zoë, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian, Major Character Injury, POV Female Character, Reader-Insert, Sexual Identity, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Notes, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uranimegf/pseuds/uranimegf
Summary: [ "There's far too much blood on my hands for me to be a good woman""Your hands?" she says, "Those that have staunched bleeding, lulled wailing children and whisked them from danger?""What I use them for now means nothing,"."It means everything." She responds. "It means everything to me," ]After opposing orders and sustaining a particularly severe injury, (y/n) is demoted, suddenly going from fighting the front lines to reluctantly understudying one Hange Zoë.To her consternation, the young soldier is left restricted in the survey corps base, invariably waiting for further instructions until her time healing has been spent.
Relationships: Hange Zoë/Reader, Hange Zoë/You
Comments: 32
Kudos: 87





	1. notes and warnings

Hey!

So, in my time in the fandom, I've noticed a terminal lack of good wlw fanfiction. I mean, so much so that it is bordering on being criminal. Thus, here I am, attempting to change this with this little node! 

I hope I can actually make a good input to this, because I'm well aware that Hange isn't an incredibly popular character to write for so the audience is quite niche and, to be honest, quite ravenous. So, again, I hope this does right by you guys (and myself).

SO! Before we start, I just wanted to give some disclaimers!  
THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1-4 OF ATTACK ON TITAN! PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! 

As well, this story uses she/her pronouns for Hange, and refers to her as a female.  
I'm aware Hanges gender is left rather ambiguous, as Isayama has said that it is up to the reader. I personally refer to her with female pronouns (and I wanted to write a wlw fic), but, just in case, I just wanted to put a little disclaimer to let you know!

As well as well, this story contains: 

\- Themes of depression and descriptions of powerful negative emotions

\- Descriptions of mental illnesses

\- Mentions of childhood trauma 

\- Themes of recovery 

\- Descriptions of injures/recovering injuries

\- Graphic violence

\- Mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts/suicide attempts/etc...

\- Language

\- Themes of loss

Also, if you're interested in reading my other work, I have an original character fic on my profile called "LION" as well! Give it a read if you enjoy my writing!

Enjoy! :)


	2. inevitability

At the back of her mind, (y/n) had always suspected that her career as a scout would end like this.

One would assume that, because of this calculation, the soldier would be more accepting of the demotion when it inescapably chanced her. Nevertheless, under the circumstances that brought her there, they would be wrong.   
Looking back on it now (though she wouldn't admit it out loud), perhaps she was being a bit juvenile. The rules set by captain Levi weren't spoken, but they had been well known by all those who worked under him. There were many - far too many to be able to contain in such little space - but, rest assured, every soldier in his rank was fully aware of each one. Any breaching of those rules was dealt with immediately, harshly and quickly.   
Thus, (y/n) understood that Erwin had been right to remove her from the line of duty in the condition she was in - that she remained in for months and would endure the reverberations of years from then. But, as she sat in the quarters that she had been banished to like a teenager that morning, rationality wasn't a friend of hers.  
Then, rationality was throwing her assigned jacket into a messy beige heap in the corner of her bed, then irritating herself for yelping at the sharp pain it brought to her wounded arm.  
(y/n) is silent for a beat, sucking in a deep breath and holding it. She holds it until her peripheral vision grows blurry, the ferocity that still galled her from her morning meeting with commander Erwin had dwindled completely now as the soldier was left horrified at the prospect of another fighter overhearing her wail, of someone beholding her vice from the corridor. (y/n) waits to hear any approaching footsteps. When nothing comes, she lets out a relieved, strained string of breaths. The soldier sighs, turning to the standing mirror near her door, otherwise unaware of what to do with herself. It was something she found herself doing often since her return - observing herself. She recognized that it was a pattern she would regret acquiring. She told herself often that she had to stop as it only brought further affliction, but the healing wounds were the only constant in her life for the time spent bedridden and that, if anything, was a comfort to her. She needed those now.   
However, as she looked through the cracks and grime, (y/n) hardly recognised the girl looking back at her. She was maimed. It was evident even without lifting clothing and exposing previously concealed skin. (y/n) noted the distinct scar on her face, starting from the arch of her left eyebrow and ending, jaggedly, on her cheekbone. She finds herself tracing it, running trembling fingers over the raised skin.

It was disgusting. It stuck out on her skin like a sore thumb, discoloured and cruel in the reminder it brought with it.

Before she could allow herself yet another moment of reflection (she's had far too many of those in the past week as she had been bedridden), (y/n) lowers her arm to her side. She knew that Moblit was on his way to brief her and take her to the office. Erwin had been dutiful to tell her that. The sense that he would turn up out of nowhere and witness her vacillating almost left her trembling. Tearful eyes wander to the beige jacket on her bed. She heaves a sigh.

  
She had only been demoted for the best of twenty minutes and had already felt as though she had been confined to the ground for perpetuity. She picked it up, folding it sloppily. The thought of having to wear it again left her nauseous. It felt wrong to even hold it now. 

  
_**He was right,** _she thinks. **_He was entirely right._**

  
The girl opens her drawer and stuffs the piece of clothing deep into the crevices between spare shirts and capes, burrowing it deep into the drawer. A knock sounds from her door and she quickly shuts the drawer.  
"(y/l/n)?" from the other side, Moblit called her name. "The Section Commander sent me for you,"   
(y/n) almost sighs again. The soldier debates ignoring him and returning to her enclosed outburst for as long as she could.   
"Yeah, I know." She allows her response to contradict her thoughts.

Reacquiring herself, (y/n) braves the open door, greeting the man on the other side with a vexed nod. He does the same - though somewhat more amicable in his deportment - and began to walk. 

(y/n) follows, stewing in her angst as he briefs her on the typical demeanour expected in the laboratory. She recalled brief notes from his concise summary about titan safety and gloves.   
Though, it was what he said upon finishing that brought her attention back to his words.   
“They won’t tell us what you did,” he speaks, breaking the brief silence that followed the even briefer exposition. (y/n) looks back at him from the court where she previously observed younger cadets begin their morning drills. Moblits eyes, though, concentrate on the floor as he walks. “But whatever it is, I know it doesn’t make you a bad person,”   
(y/n) had been persisting for as long as she could remember. But, somewhere along the way she had become too focused and, without recognising it, began to push away those without a will as strong as her. Before she knew it, she was as close to being alone as one could possibly be. Moblit, though, had been a companion to her many times. Although they weren’t friends (or, rather, she wouldn’t wholly consider him a “friend”), the two soldiers were relatively comfortable in each other’s company. (y/n) smiles insignificantly.   
“Thanks.” she replies. Moblit nods.   
“Honestly, I’m glad to have someone else at the labs,” as he speaks, (y/n) glances at the man through her eyelashes as they walk. She noiselessly draws a breathy, timid laugh from him. “(y/l/n), I’m not saying to skip into the room like you’re thrilled to be there,” he sighs.   
“Seems like it.” at this, Moblit is silent. (y/n) wonders briefly if she had been too strident and considers verbally conceding her annoyance following her demotion.   
“I’m...just saying it could be a blessing in disguise." when he breaks the silence, (y/n) is partially comforted. "The section commander offered this position. I trust her judgement."   
She didn't know that.  
She had only been told what Erwin thought to be reasonable to dispose to her that morning. Evidently, the formal request of her presence hadn't been thought of as significant. 

  
_Hange Zoë was an anomaly to her._

  
She was certainly a commendable woman, senior to her in ranks and imperceptibly so in age, too. Toiling under Levi's watch certainly left their paths apt to cross, though, despite their times fighting side-by-side (y/n) couldn't say she had cracked the case of the unusual section commander.   
Her mind wanders and, suddenly, she remembers the first breaching of Wall Maria. She remembers her then. 

  
(y/n), in her flight of dwelling on fleeting memories, abruptly notices the silence she left. She coughs to fill it.  
"Yeah. Okay," She replies.   
The two soldiers round a corner and, suddenly, they are outside of a door marked with a small "H". (y/n) shifts her weight from one foot to another, then back.   
Moblit reaches for the knob. Then, he hesitates.   
"Just...be civil, okay?"   
(y/n) glowers at him. He doesn't waver in his stance, though. He was steady in his order.

"We'll see." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY!  
> I am honestly shocked by the reception this has already gotten - I've only posted the authors note from the beginning and already have 200 reads, which is literally insane.  
> I hope I don't disappoint you at all, and please be sure to leave any tips as I'm entirely new to posting on AO3!


	3. concession

The accommodating office smelled like wood, paper and candles.

(y/n) wasn't entirely sure why she thought it would smell any different than any other room in the compound they lived in, yet she couldn't help the feeling of slight disappointment that built and released in her stomach the moment the door opened.

The soldier surveyed the room as though it were lined with bombs. Instead of deadly machines, though, the office was filled with academia that was unquestionably the section commanders. Projects and drafted research papers were strewn about every available surface, scraps of discarded projects and piles of unread letters marked "OFFICIAL" all among the collections of miscellaneous items that found a home in the office of the unconventional academic.  
(y/n) hangs back scantily as Moblit advances into the office, ably manoeuvring the impediments on the floor as though it was muscle memory.   
"Moblit!" A voice, deep into the office, draws their attention. (y/n) flinches at its velocity. "Is that my new assistant?!"   
Then, she appears. Skipping and with an enormous, bestial grin, Hange Zoë revealed herself. Moblit smiles nervously, glancing down at the girl at his side. He wasn't slow to realise that she wasn't precisely in perfect form to hear such a boisterous welcome, and she certainly hadn't gotten conditioned to heeding it at such an early hour as he had.   
"Yes, section commander. This is (y/n) (l/n). From Levi's squad," he motions to her. The soldier in question doesn't make an effort to greet her past a small nod. Hange extends a gloved hand to her.   
"It's nice to have you here, (l/n)!" She grins. "I'm sure you'll find a comfortable place with us."   
"Wouldn't bet on it." (y/n) murmurs, reluctantly shaking it. (Out of necessity more so than courtesy, she would say)   
(y/n) held resentment for the section commander and she wasn't entirely sure why. But, as she lets out a gregarious laugh at the comment (y/n) intended to be scathing, the seeds of doubt began to plant themselves already.  
Perhaps it wasn't entirely fair. Perhaps she was projecting whatever grievance she still battled with from Levi onto her. Perhaps Hange was actually a great person that she could enjoy her time working with.

"Right, you're not exactly brimming with enthusiasm. Gooootttt iiiiittt!" as the section commander finger-guns her playfully, a large grin still plastered onto her sun-kissed face, (y/n) cuts whatever sanctification she strived to create for her new boss short. 

Hange keeps her grin as (y/n) surveys her, just as she did the room. She noticed her height - (y/n) was narrowly taller than her, though the section commander had an aura of parliament on herself that made her seem much more domineering despite both her height and her lackadaisical disposition. (y/n) finds herself folding lightly under her gaze. 

Hange clasps her hand behind her back and bends forward to observe the younger girl, tilting her head as (y/n) tilts her own to avoid her gaze.   
"Hm, Levi seems to have severely understated your injuries," she hums. (Y/n) wonders briefly if it was a statement she was meant to respond to. The soldier was already, admittedly (though only to herself), uneasy under the gape of her compatriots. Particularly, now, upon amassing the many scars she was now left with and especially so when the person examining her was set to be her superior for the foreseeable future.   
Thus, Hanges gaze was repellent.   
(Y/n) shifts on her feet. Moblit takes the awkward opportunity to allow himself to clear his throat, which succeeds in straightening Hanges posture and gaining her attention.   
"I have (y/n)s reports from commander Erwin and captain Levi." He addresses her formally and with a stringent demeanour. Hange watches with a raised brow as he reaches for a file inside of his jacket. "Although, the details of what lead to her demotion have been deemed confidential to just them, section commander,"   
The woman hums in response, taking the papers from his hands and skimming them. Her eyes dart from the words up to the soldier, who doesn't falter her returning gaze.   
(Y/n) allows herself a moment to wonder what exactly they had written about her. Levi certainly had a few choice words to say of her but Erwin had seemed to have a word or two to say as well, judging by the specificity of Moblits words. She wondered what he had to say about her. She wondered if it was contrary. 

Her eyes wander back up to Hange.   
She bites the tip of her glove, yanking it cleanly off of her hands, her brown eyes still intently focused on the words on the papers. The section commander discards it to one side, spitting it out with a cock of her chin. With her degloved hand, Hange flicks through the rest. She hums, apparently upon seeing something individually striking. (y/n) swallows. She considers and rejects what exactly she could've read, although her mind couldn't focus on just one instance that stood out from the rest.  
"Thank you, Moblit," she finally breaks the horrible silence with a smile. "I take it (y/n) has been briefed?"  
"Yes, section commander," he replies.   
"Fantastic work! We can start our work without a hitch, I take it! Moblit, I'll see you off for your assignments."   
"Assignments?" (Y/n) turns, confused, to the man beside her.   
"Moblit here has some work to do that is beyond me," Hange answers for him, patting him on the back lovingly. "He'll be away for today. He's away most days,"   
(Y/n) looks at her, then back at the man in question.

_Moblit shoots her an apologetic simper and (y/n) swears that whatever semblance of a friendship they had was now banished._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you guys don't mind a taller reader, I thought I'd throw it in to make it. a bit more interesting of a dynamic as I don't see it much :) If it's not your deal, don't worry! It won't come into play much, I just thought it would be a fun little detail! You could totally overlook it as posture difference if it didn't stand out to you!  
> Thank you again for all of the wonderful comments and all of the reads! I really appreciate it!  
> It's already looking like the next chapter will be longer, so don't worry about the length of this one!  
> Also, a note, your backstory is kept intentionally vague! The relationship I'm writing with Hange is intentionally meant to be full of tension as it is partially an enemies to lovers type of thing, so It will be partially revealed through the story as it progresses. I've had some questions about that, so just clearing it up for you!  
> Thank you!


	4. a hundred maimed faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw// mentions of scarring, panic attack, references to self-image issues!

(Y/n) stood, awkwardly by the doorframe. She hadn't budged since Moblit left, though Hange had since briefly resumed her work. She found her eyes wandering to the girl by the door occasionally, and, through the strands of chestnut hair, she caught her assistant angling her head slightly upwards to see what she was doing with a twinkle of interest. 

It took the section commander a moment to realise that she hadn't actually given orders. 

"Do you want to help?" 

The question seemed to catch (y/n) off-guard as she flinched slightly. 

"Do I have a choice?" And, suddenly, the guard is back up and her features were stained with the contours of disinterest yet again. Hange reaches for a bag near the desk and, from it, brandishes a pair of latex gloves.   
"I suppose not," She grins, outstretching her arm to hand the soldier a pair. (Y/n) takes them reluctantly, making her wary way to the desk alongside the section commander. Her body was warm and, though she stood shorter than her, Hange Zoë loomed over her in presence alone.  
"What're you doing...?"   
"I'm trying to see how a Titans skin would react to different temperatures," Hange explains. She points to a metal bowl, which encased a sample of said Titan skin. It was dry and clearly had been treated with some kind of mixture as, though the scent of decay still lingered (and it certainly did), a viscous, heavy redolence of chemicals mixed horribly with it under her nose. (Y/n) gagged. "I'm holding this candle under the bowl, see?"   
The section commander budges the candle slightly to the left, closer to the bottom of the bowl.  
"It's not even under it." (Y/n) comments. She watched it stay the same with no noticeable resistance and noted that if the smell was bad now, it would certainly grow worse with the added heat.  
"Right. I'm logging its reaction as I raise the heat gradually," from her jacket pocket, Hange pulls out a small notebook. (y/n) watches as she flips through it, gloved hands flicking through them expertly fast until, eventually, she reached a page she fancied.   
"You can log the reactions." She smiles, handing her the book.   
The notebook was thread-bound and worn to the point where she feared it would fall apart if she handled it incorrectly.   
(Y/n) looks through the notes from today

**_25 degrees = no note-worthy reaction.  
26 degrees = no note-worthy reaction.   
27 degrees = no note-worthy react-_ **

"Is this all the same note?"   
"Hm? Oh, actually, could you sort these instead?  
(Y/n) grimaces. She turned to where the section commander pointed, towards a messy heap of unorganised papers. Her interest went from piqued to entirely drained in a matter of seconds, her eyebrows furrowing as she thought of sifting through them. 

She sighs, sitting down at the desk, the papers close to looming over her. 

The pair worked in relative silence, despite the small, occasional "Oh!"s and "Eeps!" from Hange as her hand slipped, or as extra ink dripped onto the notebook.   
Hours passed - (y/n) thinks - since she had begun to conquer the mounds of paper. She had made a sizeable dent, now, finding a comfortable rhythm and a comfortable position on the now candlelit desk. 

“That’s one nasty scar, (y/n),” Hange suddenly calls from a nearby table, breaking the long silence. As she fiddles with the papers on her desk, (y/n) scowls. The summer sun had begun to set not long ago and the experiment had been long concluded. The two women had been strewn about the office for the best part of two hours, now, with (y/n) sorting through piles of unlabelled papers and Hange continuing to scribble down her findings of that day.   
(Y/n) assumed that there hadn’t been any, but she had been writing for the entire time. 

She thinks of some choice words she could say to her to leave her quiet. 

“Thanks.” She replies instead, finally getting a solid hold on the nefarious knoll of paper on her desk. She swallows the anxiety building in her throat now that her defect had finally been addressed.   
“Was that during the last mission?” The section commander proceeds to prod her. Her voice was nearer this time, but (y/n) doesn’t look up.   
“Yeah.”   
“Can you still see?” Suddenly, she’s beside her, and the soldier jumps at her voice.   
“Not well.” She wearily retorts. “It’s blurry. Don’t you know this?”   
“They only say so much in the medical reports,” Hange responds matter-of-factly, as though (y/n) was expected to have read plenty in her time (she hadn’t). She shrugs, returning to her assigned work. Hange launders there for a moment or two, watching her. And one could note that she was watching her, without a doubt, as there was certainly nothing interesting about the pile of sciencey jargon that she was sorting through. Although, thinking about it now, there was apt to be something thrilling to see in there for her. Hange seemed to have brought a pile of her own, plopping down across from the soldier.

“It’s like that for a reason.” (Y/n) replies.

The room is silent again.

Hange continues with her work and (y/n) continues skimming her assigned reading, both of them hunched over their (now shared) desk tiredly. Moblit was yet to return. (Y/n) glances up. She feels the pull in her gut as she watched Hanges eyes shift around shamefully, surely racking her brain for any kind of quip to ease the tension she created. If she had thought of one, Hange doesn’t speak it, as the rooms uneasy silence grows longer.

(Y/n) decides to eventually return to the work assigned to her. However, she grows suddenly very wary of the section commanders brown eyes on the side of her face. 

“Why’re you staring at me?” She mumbles. Her voice is suddenly much weaker. 

“I noticed your eye,” she replies. (y/n) glances at her. She has stood since, seemingly transient, and is now leaning on the desk, watching (y/n) with folded arms. “One is much paler than the other. The pupil is greater.” 

**_ She is pointing out the obvious _ ** , (y/n) thinks.  **_ She’s just trying to mock you. _ **

“I see that in titans, when their eyes get scarred,” suddenly, Hange is much lighter in her rhythm as she began to spoke of something she was confident about. (y/n) is uneasy now, hands stopping their rhythm suddenly. A Titan. The things that caused this entire calamity, the things that left her with countless dead comrades, a demotion and an aching body riddled with ugly scars. Her fists ball. 

“Are we done for today?” (Y/n) attempts to keep her voice steady with a deep breath inward. Hange, although slightly taken aback by how forward her assistant had been, nods before she found words to confirm. 

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I guess so!” She smiles, stumbling back as (y/n) stands, perturbed by the tears she saw prick at her eyes. If she had seen them, Hange didn’t comment on them. She watches as (y/n) collects her things hastily, making her quick way past the papers and towards the door. “You can sleep in a bit tomorrow, we’re in at nine,” The door shuts behind her, and Hange is left only with a sense that she had said something wrong.

* * *

_ The scar.  _

She had almost forgotten about it over the long workday, but the reminder of it reared it’s ugly head the moment Hange pointed it out, ogling at it like she was sizing up a test subject. The mirror found her again, her body instinctively parking in front of it as if she was asking for herself to point out what was wrong with who looked back at her.

**_ One nasty-looking scar.  _ **

(Y/n) couldn’t help but scoff, because she was right. Hange was completely, entirely right. It was revolting. She lifted her hand to caress the horrible scar, though she realised that her hands, too, weren’t what they used to be. Instead of a softness, (y/n) felt the calloused tips of a soldiers fingers on the raised skin. She lowers her hand again, balling her fist. She collides it with the mirror with a crash, punching a web-like crack into the sprawling area around the impact. What seemed like hundreds of maimed faces- her faces- in the reflection split into scanty segments, doubling. 

(Y/n) bites her tongue. Her breathing becomes scattered and heavy, and she suddenly feels like she is drowning in nothing. Tens more of her stared back at her as she struggled to fight back a frustrated sob. She shuts her eyes tightly as her previously rather hushed breathing becomes audibly violent as she becomes more and more desperate to just fucking **_breathe_**. Her hands tremble, even through fists, as they are no longer strong enough to sustain her quivering.   
It is suddenly incredibly hot and, when her eyes open again, (y/n) is surprised to see that she hadn't collapsed yet.   
The faces in the mirror are there to greet here the moment she finds the courage to open her eyes. They stare at her, mocking her, malicious and ignoble. 

_**Not me** _

_**Not me** _

_**That's not me.** _

She covers the faces with a sheet, previously tossed messily into a heap in the corner of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slow update and for the short chapter!!  
> ALSO! Just a note; I do not think that scars are ugly or horrible as I have written in these last few chapters! I don't want anyone who has scars to assume that of me by any means! This is written from the perspective of a soldier who has yet to come to terms with something that has left her with these injuries all of a sudden, as well, seeing them will remind her of the demotion that is still super fresh, so she will think that they are horrible or ugly. These are (y/n)s views on them, NOT my own!  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!! :)


End file.
